Loki | MCU (subtletrick) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2014-03-19 19:52:00 |
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Entry tags: | loki |
Who: bb!Loki
What: OOPS BREAKING THE BB aka Loki is too curious for his own damn good.
Where: Older!Loki's creepy attic magic!room in Iceland, bitchesssssssssss!
When: Tonight, starting around like 8pm or so; assume Loki is off doing all this reading for like three or four hours.
Rating/warnings: Nothing srs!
As long as Loki could remember, he could read. He was fairly sure there was a time when he could not read - babies did not read, after all, and he knows he was once a baby - but he doesn’t really remember the process of putting letters together, of not understanding what he saw on the pages. He understood words on paper better than he understood the grip on a sword that is best for different kinds of combat; he knows those things theoretically, from the books he’s read, but his hands are too small and thin on the hilt, and he can’t quite swing the heavy wooden practice blades quite right but he can read, and he can understand old languages long forgotten and twist them to be what he wants them to be - and with a touch of focus and power, a brush of magic, he can use the words as his weapons.
He cannot remember a time before words, but Loki can remember a time before he could use magic. He remembered his mother doing it - little spells, protections woven into fabrics and blessings over his bed, over Thor’s, at night, to keep dreams pleasant and distraction from slumber reduced. He had found it calming, interesting; it was not his, though, and he was not able to do it. He could read about it, but he did not know how to turn the words into magic.
She taught him, though. Now, Loki was able to do a whole lot of different things with his magic. Transporting himself across spaces, hiding objects in pockets of space where he could reach them later, casting protections and concealments - and even hiding in plain sight (though not from Heimdall, not yet but he was trying, he had made it a personal goal to conceal himself too well, just to see if he could, because no one could hide from Heimdall, no one could hide from Father when he was on his throne and looking, but Loki wanted to do it, to prove this, magic, was as worthy as disemboweling a foe in battle).
Now, he hid. He knew Mother could find him if she tried, maybe Thor even could, but he didn’t want them to try. He had pretended to be tired, this evening at dinner, smiled and said he was going to read and then sleep. He didn’t think anyone would come looking for him. He was hiding, slipped between the place known as Lawrence, Kansas, America, Midgard and the place he had arrived here in - the small, cool place, with the magic that tried to wrap him up and crush him, then retreated to brush against him like it was trying to reassure him, trying to figure him out, confused and concerned and angry as he climbed the wooden steps into the attic. There, the magic was only angry, but it still did nothing. It didn’t understand him. He knew why, now - because this was Loki’s place. Not him, but the other Loki. The older one. The magic knew him, but it did not know him - and so it did not approve, but could not prevent him from entering, merely lurk around him, dark and heavy, like an angry feline lashing its tail, ears back...
Loki reached between spaces and pulled the computer free from where he had hidden it earlier, setting it heavily on the table on top of and beside some old books that had been left spread open. One of them had scribbles between the margins, scribbles in blood, powerful magic binding the notes and adding them to the spells already there. Containment, here. Amplification, there. Alteration. Loki nudged the book closed with a shiver that was partially unease... and a great deal of restraint. He wanted to study these - whatever his older self knew, he wanted to know. He wanted to know why the older Loki knew all of this, why he had these books that practically oozed magic and power and something darker than either of those things...
...he wanted to know why the room whispered with frost at the edges, what it was that sent shivers up his spine, the raw power that was hidden in this room, bound in place by the angry protective magics...
...but he needed to start looking for these answers where they began.
The computer made a small sound not unlike the royal horns announcing Father’s presence at a feast, but much quieter, and Loki tapped at the keys, frowning in concentration as he brought up the pages he required.
He had told mother he would not look at this without her. But she and Thor had seemed so strange, so... concerned at the idea that he wished to see it, that he had felt perhaps it was best neither of them know he has seen. They could rest easier, believing him unaware of whatever terrible thing (he assumed) was lurking behind the bright screen and dark letters on this device. He could rest easier, knowing that he knew whatever it was they did not want him to see. That he would not be unprepared.
There were a lot of posts under his name's "tag". He navigated to the very beginning, skipping all the way there without reading anything. Context was important. He could not understand pieces nearly as well as the whole, and he wanted to understand everything they didn't want him to see.